


all the gods and all the worlds

by zimriya



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:23:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>This fic is now discontinued.</b>
</p><p>“It’s okay,” says Enjolras quietly. “I mean, thank you.” He pauses, awkward. “Again.”</p><p>The boy leans over to nudge Enjolras with one shoulder, the move a bright spot of physical contact on an otherwise isolated day, and reaches out to tug open a compartment on their right. “You’re very welcome,” he says. “I’m Grantaire, by the way, and this is--”</p><p>“The Girl Who Lived,” says Enjolras, stupidly, and instantly regrets it.</p><p>“--Cosette,” finishes Grantaire, from behind him.</p><p>A Hogwarts AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Year: 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by the lovely decourfeynated with an additional look by my dear friend Rose. All other mistakes are my own.
> 
> Title is from the song Blue Lips by Regina Spektor.

**First Year - 1**

\--

Enjolras would like to say that the first people he meets on the train to Hogwarts become his best friends; he doesn’t, because the first people he meets on the train are a pair of stoic, stiff-limbed, upperclassmen who refuse to look up from their books. Enjolras is only sitting with them because theirs was the first compartment he found with empty seats, and by the time he realized they weren’t going to acknowledge his presence, the train had already started and it was too late to leave.

 “Um,” he says awkwardly into the silence.

Neither of the students looks up from their books. They’re both dressed in robes, like Enjolras, but there’s no way to tell if they had to awkwardly climb onto the train wearing them like he did.

Both of them turn a page in terrifying unison.

“Right,” says Enjolras. He steels himself for what will no doubt be the most awkward train ride of his life; possibly he should sleep.

“Hey, there you are,” says a voice, and Enjolras’ head snaps up instantly. The voice belongs to a boy, about Enjolras’ age, with dark, curly hair and too-blue eyes. He’s wearing plain clothes--a pair of jeans and high-top converse covered in marker--but Enjolras tries his best to focus on his face instead. He gets distracted, though, because the boy has near-translucent lines of scar tissue crawling across the skin of his neck. He’s also smiling, despite the purple circles under his eyes, and he’s sticking his head into the compartment.

“I’m sorry?” says Enjolras, a few seconds too late. His voice sounds broken and uncomfortable in the silence.

“We saved you a seat if you want,” says the boy. By contrast, _his_ voice is warm, inviting, and sounds entirely too comfortable in the quiet around them. It makes Enjolras’ whole body feel warm.

He ends up staring somewhat blankly back at the boy, uncertain.

“Unless you want to stay here--” begins the boy.

“No, I--thanks!” says Enjolras, quickly. He darts to his feet and grabs his trunk. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you.”

“No problem,” says his savior, helping Enjolras lift his trunk out into the aisle.

Enjolras follows him, grateful. Inside, neither of his newfound friends seem to notice.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” continues the boy, as they make their way past the compartments. He smiles again. It’s an easy smile, and it lights up his whole face. Enjolras can’t remember the last time he saw a smile like that, and the knot of tension in the pit of his stomach loosens a little. Maybe it won’t be so bad here.

“It’s okay,” he says, quietly. “I mean, thank you.” He pauses, awkward. “Again.”

The boy leans over to nudge Enjolras with one shoulder, the move a bright spot of physical contact on an otherwise isolated day, and reaches out to tug open a compartment on their right. “You’re very welcome,” he says. “I’m Grantaire, by the way, and this is--”

“The Girl Who Lived,” says Enjolras, stupidly, and instantly regrets it.

“--Cosette,” finishes Grantaire, from behind him.

“Hello,” says Cosette. Her eyes are very, very blue, and entirely too piercing. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh god,” says Enjolras, on some sort of terrible automatic pilot, and sticks out a hand. “I mean, sorry. I mean--” He breaks off, lips twitching slightly, and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’m not usually this much of an idiot.”

Cosette laughs and takes his hand. Her grip is firmer than Enjolras is expecting, but no less warm. “It’s okay,” she says. “I get that a lot.” That last bit sounds like a line, but the slope of her mouth suggests that she means it as nicely as possible.

“Still,” Enjolras says. “I’m not usually this flustered.”

“It’s fine,” says Cosette, mildly. She brings a hand up to brush at some of the strands of hair falling across her forehead, and Enjolras’ eyes catch on the fingerless gloves she has on.

“No, it’s not--I’m--” says Enjolras, stumbling.

“Sorry,” tries Grantaire.

“Enjolras,” finishes Enjolras. “You caught me on a bad day.”

Grantaire smiles at him. “It’s alright, really. You should have seen the people he was sitting with,” he adds, winking at Cosette. He pulls the door shut behind them and rests and arm across Enjolras’ shoulders like he belongs. “They wouldn’t even put their books down.”

“Oh?” says Cosette.

Now that his heart isn’t trying to beat its way out of his chest, Enjolras notices that she has a book in her left hand, and he can see the faint edge of the circle of scar tissue that marks her as The Girl Who Lived.

“Yep,” says Grantaire. “Right, Enjolras?”

“Why aren’t you wearing two gloves?” says Enjolras, stupidly. Again. He can feel the flush creeping its way up his neck.

Grantaire makes a choking noise from somewhere behind him. “Your foot is in your mouth, Apollo,” he says.

“Apollo,” says Enjolras, refusing to look away from Cosette’s eyes.

“Foot in your mouth?” says Cosette. She’s still smiling, and actually looks to be genuinely amused. Enjolras isn’t sure if he should be happy about that or not. He’s thinking the latter.

“Muggle saying,” says Grantaire. He comes around to take up residence in the seat across from Cosette, leaving Enjolras to awkwardly set his trunk above them. “And don’t pretend you didn’t think it when you saw him.” He nudges Cosette with a toe. “Blond hair, pale skin, the cheekbones.”

Enjolras is suddenly incredibly self-conscious, but he pretends otherwise. “I do not know what you’re talking about,” he says, with dignity, and heads over to take the seat next to Cosette.

She scoots over slightly, and grins at him. “I don’t know,” she says. “I can see it.”

Enjolras scowls at her, and Grantaire laughs.

“See,” says the other boy. “He even frowns pretty.”

“I do not,” says Enjolras, crossing his arms. “Shut up.”

Grantaire mimes zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key. He gives his wand a swish for good measure as well, and Cosette laughs.

“You don’t know a spell to take someone’s voice,” she says.

“No,” says Grantaire. “But I bet there is one.”

Cosette leans back in her seat. “Well, yeah,” she says. “But there’re spells for most of everything.”

“True,” says Grantaire. “Has your father shown you any awesome ones?”

Cosette’s lips curve into even more of a smile. “Maybe,” she says.

“Have you known each other long, then?” interjects Enjolras, still feeling awkward.

“Nope,” says Cosette. “I just met him today.”

“She accosted me,” clarifies Grantaire. “One minute I was walking by this lovely compartment in search of a seat and the next she had somehow lured me into her clutches with the promise of chocolate frogs.”

Cosette laughs at him, throwing her head back and lifting a hand to brush hair out of her eyes. The move lets the light catch on the ring shaped scar on the back of her hand, and Enjolras can’t help but stare. Not for long, though, because Grantaire meets his eyes and nudges him with a shoe. When Enjolras looks at him inquiringly, he shakes his head.

“You brought up chocolate frogs first,” Cosette is saying when Enjolras tunes back in. “And that was only because of Papa.”

“Headmaster Valjean,” clarifies Grantaire, as if Enjolras doesn’t know, and Enjolras narrows his eyes at him. Grantaire puts up both of his hands. “What?” he says.

“I’m not an idiot, Grantaire,” says Enjolras.

Cosette grins. “That’s not what you said a few minutes ago,” she says.

Enjolras shakes his head at her, but smiles.

“But anyway, chocolate frogs,” says Grantaire. He lifts both of his hands above his head and folds them up so that he can use them as something of a pillow, dragging the fabric of his t-shirt up over his hipbones and revealing skin. “I have five of him.”

Cosette wrinkles her nose. “Really?” she says. “Papa doesn’t let me keep any of the cards with him on it. He finds them to be somewhat tasteless.”

“I’ll trade you,” says Grantaire, says. “Although, I should warn you, you’re on the card.”

“Really?” Cosette sounds gleeful. “What does it say?”

Enjolras continues to stare at them, somewhat at a loss, as they unwrap a chocolate frog and let it hop about the compartment. It lands on Enjolras’ left knee, and stays there, seemingly unconcerned.

“See,” says Grantaire. “I only ever get Valjean--”

The door swings open, and the frog on Enjolras’ lap makes a beeline for it.

“Do you guys have empty seats--” says one of the two boys in the doorway, before he catches sight of the frog. “Hey, Marius, catch it!”

The other boy, smaller with more freckles than Enjolras can count and a bright crop of red-brown hair, makes a startled noise and manages to catch the frog mid-air. It lands on his nose, where he stares at it somewhat cross-eyedly until Cosette gets up to pick it up.

“Sorry about that,” she says, gently. She picks up the frog, which settles easily into her palm, and plops it in her mouth.

He stares back at her, still cross-eyed, as she chews.

“No problem,” says the other boy, brightly. “I’m Courfeyrac, and this is Marius.”

“Grantaire,” says Grantaire.

“Enjolras,” says Enjolras.

“Cosette,” says Cosette.

“Awesome,” says Courfeyrac. “Now if you don’t mind, please pretend you didn’t see us.”

“What?” Enjolras tries to say, before Courfeyrac unfolds the bit of fabric he has under his left arm and disappears underneath it with Marius.

A few moments later, the compartment door comes open again to reveal a girl. She has dark hair, dimples, and looks exhausted. “Any chance the three of you have seen a boy, about this high--”

She makes a gesture in the air bout at her chin height, and there is a muffled sound of protest from the corner of the compartment where Enjolras knows Courfeyrac and Marius are.

“--with dark, curly hair, and an air of mischief about him?”

“Nope,” says Grantaire, when it becomes clear Enjolras and Cosette aren’t going to say anything. “Sorry--”

“Okay, hold on,” says Courfeyrac, fighting his way free of the invisibility cloak to leave poor Marius twisted up in it awkwardly.

Grantaire takes pity on the boy, and reaches out to help him untangle and sit down in one of the empty seats next to him.

“What about me says mischief?” finishes Courfeyrac.

Cosette comes back over to sit next to Enjolras, who very subtly starts shifting closer and closer to the window; Grantaire notices, but doesn’t do anything beyond grin at him.

The girl, stares at Courfeyrac blankly. “You stole Marius,” she says.

 “You tried to make Marius sit with your creepy friends,” retorts Courfeyrac. “And you’re changing the subject.”

“Jehan is not creepy,” says the girl.

“I wasn’t talking about Jehan,” sulks Courfeyrac.

 The girl rolls her eyes. “And I don’t know--the fact that you have an invisibility cloak, maybe?” she continues.

“That is pretty mischievous,” puts in Grantaire.

“Thank you,” says the girl. “I’m Eponine.” She gives Courfeyrac another long look, before heading over to shake hands with Grantaire.

“Grantaire,” says Grantaire. “Nice to meet you.” He reaches out a hand to point at Enjolras. “This is Enjolras.”

Enjolras manages something of an awkward wave.

“And this is Cosette.”

Cosette smiles back, brightly; across the seat from them, Marius sucks in a breath, and goes faintly pink underneath all of the freckles.

“Hi,” says Cosette.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Courfeyrac. “Now we all know each other, hooray, can we get back to the point of this conversation?”

“I don’t know,” says Enjolras, finding his voice, finally. “I’m pretty sure Grantaire answered your question when he brought up your invisibility cloak.”

Courfeyrac’s jaw snaps shut, and Grantaire looks terribly pleased. “I like you,” he tells Enjolras. “You can stay.”

Enjolras tries out a smile at him, and the other boy blinks, before grinning back, wildly, and opening his mouth.

Enjolras never gets to hear what he says, however, because they’re interrupted by the compartment door pulling open once again.

“Sorry,” says the boy in the doorway. “But, um, Eponine, ‘Parnasse wants to know if you’re coming back?”

“Jehan,” wails Courfeyrac, taking hold of the newest addition and dragging him inside.

Jehan has reddish hair and freckles also, and Enjolras ends up looking between him and Marius with amusement.

Across from him, Eponine catches his eye and mouths, _don’t_. She’s taken up residence underneath Grantaire’s other arm, but unlike Marius, she looks more than pleased to be there.

“Oh, um, hello, Courfeyrac?” says Jehan, sounding mostly unfazed by how he’s been abducted and is currently being trapped in something of an awkward hug.

“Tell them I’m not mischievous!” Courfeyrac says to the other boy’s collar bones.

Jehan opens and closes his mouth a few times, before reaching up to pat Courfeyrac on the head. “You’re not mischievous?” he says, but it comes out more of a question.

Courfeyrac seems to visibly deflate, before he heads over to the empty space next to Cosette and plops down. He doesn’t seem to even really notice Cosette, who looks absolutely charmed. “You’re all awful,” he tells the group. “You three, especially.” He points around at Enjolras, Cosette, and Grantaire. “Since I don’t really know you.”

There is a slightly awkward silence, before Jehan breaks it. “So, um, Eponine?”

“Tell ‘Parnasse he can suck it,” says Eponine, from somewhere around the vicinity of Grantaire’s armpit. “Or actually, come here. Join us, Prouvaire. Sit among the mortals.”

She makes a dramatic gesture with her hands, and Jehan smiles at her. “I don’t think I’ll fit,” he says, but he’s grinning, and comes over to settle into the empty space Courfeyrac and Cosette make for him.

“Nonsense,” crows Courfeyrac. “Get over here.”

Enjolras ends up pressed leg to leg with Cosette, who shoots him something of an apologetic look.

“Sorry,” she says.

“No problem,” says Enjolras, smiling back at her. “It could be worse.”

He regrets saying that twenty minutes later, when the doors burst open again in the middle of a particularly enlightening discussion of classes and houses. It’s another pair of boys, one wearing glasses and the other a grin, sounding out of breath. They’re both already wearing their robes as well.

 “I regret ever deciding to sit with you,” says the first one, closing the compartment behind him, before giving the group in front of him a long look. “We are never going to fit.”

“Nonsense, Combeferre,” says the other boy. “Now sit down before they notice we’ve stopped running.”

“Right,” says Combeferre. “I’m Combeferre, and this is Bahorel, and for a reason that is beyond me, he decided to start his Hogwarts career by pranking the most terrifying Slytherin sixth year I have ever laid eyes on.”

Bahorel laughs. “He was huge,” he says, “and shut up, he was asking for it.”

Combeferre’s lips twitch, slightly, before he sighs. “Well, yes,” he says. “But that didn’t warrant using magic--”

“There he is, quick!” shouts Bahorel, shoving Combeferre towards Enjolras’ side of seats and nearly crushing Marius in his quest to look innocent. “Act natural.”

“It’s very hard to act natural when you can’t breathe,” says Marius, finally finding his voice, and the entire group of them bursts out laughing.

It only gets worse a few moments later, when the largest sixteen year-old Enjolras has ever seen walks by their train compartment with a furious expression on his face.

“He’s green,” says Grantaire, sounding gleeful. “You must teach me that.”

“But of course,” says Bahorel, bowing. “Now, is someone going to do something about the lack of seats, or are we just going to get to know each other the hard way.”

“I vote illegal magic,” says Enjolras, getting a hand free and wincing at how that makes his shoulder dig awkwardly into the train window.

“Cool,” says Grantaire, wrestling free of the pile of limbs across from him. “Nobody panic; I’ve never tried this before.”

\--

“So this is fun,” says Courfeyrac, finally, into the darkness of the Black Lake around them. He’s ended up in a boat with Enjolras, Combeferre, and Jehan, while Eponine and Cosette cuddle with Grantaire to their left. Bahorel had vanished somewhere between them getting off of the express and onto the boats, dragging Marius behind him somewhat helplessly.

“I think it’s peaceful,” says Jehan, sweetly. He reaches out a hand to dip into the water to his left, and Enjolras has to fight the urge to reach out and grab a part of him to keep him from falling. They’re on the far end of the group, so when a tentacle comes curling out of the water there’s no one around to hear Courfeyrac’s shriek.

“What?” he says, even as Jehan blinks down at the tentacle, which is curling around his fingers. “It could have killed me.”

“Oh, hello,” says Jehan, shaking his hand once.

“Right,” says Eponine. “I’m shaking all the way over here in my boat.”

“Shut up,” says Courfeyrac.

“I think it’s harmless,” says Jehan, letting go of the tentacle and watching it descend back under the water.

A few boats ahead of them there’s a splash, and then a shout, and then a slightly startled voice saying, “I’m okay, sorry!”

“He’s okay!” calls what sounds like Bahorel. “I caught him, right, Bossuet?”

Enjolras finds himself meeting Grantaire’s eyes in the lamplight, mouth slightly agape, and shaking his head.

“So I found Bahorel,” says Combeferre, quietly.

There’s another splash.

“Oh god!” cries a voice that sounds like Marius.

“And Marius.”

“I’m still okay!” shouts the kid named Bossuet.

Combeferre’s smiles a little. “He sounds like he’s having fun.”

Grantaire snorts. “One word for it.”

Enjolras watches the oar-less boats for a while longer, before glancing back up at the looming castle before them. “Wow,” he finds himself saying, and flushing, before checking to make sure no one around him notices.

He doesn’t think they do, except when they get out of the boats on shaking legs to start the trek up to the castle doors, Grantaire nudges him with one shoulder and smiles.

\--

When the last of the First Year’s names have been called and Headmaster Valjean finishes welcoming them and filling the tables with food, Enjolras looks around and finds Cosette. She’s sitting somewhat shell shocked at the Gryffindor table, with a less than pleased looking Grantaire at her side. When he meets her eyes, however, she smiles.

“Come on,” says Enjolras, under his breath, to Combeferre.

The other boy looks at him from behind his glasses, brow furrowed, but gets to his feet when Enjolras does so.

“Is this seat taken?” Enjolras asks Cosette, politely, when they’re finished walking across the Great Hall from the Ravenclaw table to the Gryffindor one.

“No,” says Cosette, lips twitching. “But neither is that one.” She points across the room at the empty spots next to Marius and Courfeyrac at the Hufflepuff table, and gets to her feet. “Shall we?” she sticks out a hand for Combeferre, who takes it, and the two of them head off towards the Hufflepuff table.

Grantaire doesn’t move.

“Well?” says Enjolras, looking down at him. “Are you coming?”

Grantaire refuses to meet his eyes. “Everyone is staring at us,” he says, finally.

“So?” says Enjolras. Cosette and Combeferre have settled into the seats next to Marius and Courfeyrac.

“Does that not bother you?” says Grantaire.

“Does it bother _you_?” says Enjolras, somewhat sharply, and Grantaire’s eyes go briefly dark.

“Nope,” he says, brightly, hopping to his feet and brushing his hands along his robes. “Lead on, Apollo.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, amused, but sets off towards Cosette and company anyway. “You shouldn’t call me that,” he says.

“I can call you whatever I like,” points out Grantaire. “Apollo.”

“If you wish,” says Enjolras. He spots Jehan and Eponine at the Slytherin table, and waves. Jehan’s hand comes up almost instantly, but Eponine only risks a nod. To their right, a boy with dark hair, red lips, and sharp eyes, reaches out to tug Jehan’s arm down. “I might have to stop you,” Enjolras adds.

“Oh?”

Enjolras raises both of his eyebrows, and mimes flicking his wand.

Grantaire snorts. “I thought there wasn’t a spell to take someone’s voice,” he says.

“That’s what you think,” says Enjolras. They’ve reached the Hufflepuff table in time to hear Courfeyrac introducing the boy to Marius’ left.

“This is Bossuet,” he says. “You may also know him as the kid who fell out of his boat.”

Bossuet lifts one hand in greeting and grins. He doesn’t look all that wet, but there are puddles around his feet, so whomever dried him didn’t get his shoes.

“Are you--” says Enjolras, slowly. “Are you bald?”

There’s a beat. “Oh my god,” says Cosette, breathlessly, burying her head in her hands.

Grantaire reaches out and tugs Enjolras into a seat. “Here,” he says, reaching out to put a helping of mashed potatoes onto Enjolras’ plate. “Before you break Cosette.”

Cosette has turned to look at Marius and appears to be having a rapturous conversation with him about the weather in the Great Hall.

“Or yourself,” concedes Grantaire, following Enjolras’ eyes.

Enjolras opens his mouth to respond and Courfeyrac reaches out to shove a spoonful into his mouth. “Eat,” he says, nodding alongside with Grantaire.

“To answer your question, yes,” says Bossuet, as Enjolras chews. He looks and sounds pleased. “I am bald.”

“Thank you for that, Bossuet,” says Courfeyrac. He feeds Enjolras another bite before he can speak. “I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.”

“I can feed myself, thanks,” says Enjolras, sharply, getting a hand free and grabbing the spoon before Courfeyrac can shovel another mouthful into his mouth.

“Oh, good, it talks,” says Combeferre, dryly.

Enjolras gets a hand free so that he can flip him off. “What?” he says, when Grantaire and Courfeyrac blink at him. “I watch TV.”

The two of them raise both of their hands in defense. “Didn’t say anything,” says Courfeyrac.

“You thought it,” says Enjolras, not meanly, but with a grin twisting around his mouth.

“Mind-reader,” retorts Grantaire. He loads his own plate with mashed potatoes and starts eating.

“Observant,” says Enjolras. He pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice and pointedly ignores the look Grantaire is leveling him.

“Ravenclaw,” says Grantaire, finally.

Enjolras glares at him. “What does that have to do with anything?” he says, somewhat sharply.

Their group goes a little silent, and even Cosette stops talking with Marius to look at the two of them.

“Nothing,” says Grantaire, finally. “Everything.”

Enjolras considers arguing, but is saved from further conversation by Bahorel, followed by a slightly out of breath Jehan, settling down into the seat across from them. “Hello,” says Bahorel, brightly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Enjolras blinks at him, taking in the half-assedly tied standard black tie around his neck and the Gryffindor pin sitting proudly against his breastbone, and smiles back. “Hello,” he says.

“Sorry we’re late,” says Jehan, brightly, from behind Bahorel. He reaches back with a hand, and a slightly green Eponine comes stumbling forward.

“Eponine!” says Marius, brightly, from his place at Cosette’s side. He looks up at her and smiles.

“Hi,” says Eponine, sounding tired. She settles into the seat across from Cosette and ignores the looks from the surrounding Hufflepuffs. Bahorel takes a seat next to her and that seems to deter any of the onlookers, and when Jehan settles down on her other side, they all look back down at their plates.

“Nice of you to join us,” says Combeferre.

“Yeah,” says Courfeyrac, brightly. “I never really cared for House stereotypes.” He slaps a hand to his chest, and then drapes an arm around Marius. He ends up shoving Grantaire into Enjolras, who finds himself only grinning in response. The Ravenclaw pin on his tie digs into his collarbone, but he doesn’t really care. “Right, Marius?” says Courfeyrac.

“I’m just glad the Hat sorted me,” says Grantaire, dryly. “I couldn’t make up my mind.”

“If it sorted Enjolras, it could handle you,” says Eponine. She’s started heaving food onto her plate, and already there is more color in her cheeks. “You were up there for ages. What were you doing? Arguing with it?”

Enjolras remembers his lengthy discussion with the Hat about his own various qualities and Housing choices, and wisely decides not to mention it. “None of your business,” he says.

“Which means yes,” says Grantaire. “Did you read it a prepared speech?”

“No,” says Enjolras. _Yes_ , means Enjolras.

Grantaire grins at him.

\--

The Ravenclaw common room is located on the west side of the castle. Enjolras and Combeferre have to run to catch the rest of the table of Ravenclaws, and none of the other first years or upperclassmen look particularly pleased to see them. Enjolras spots his friends from the train, and can’t quite hide the smile on his face. When they reach the group, they ease in between a boy and girl, who meet their eyes and smile.

“Hello,” says the girl. “I’m Musichetta.”

She reaches out and takes Enjolras’ hand, then Combeferre, before smiling again and following the rest of the wave of Ravenclaws.

“Enjolras,” says Enjolras, blankly, even though she can’t quite hear him.

“Combeferre,” says Combeferre, laughing. “Come on.”

The follow the Prefects through the maze of hallways, up some terrifying stairs that really ought to come with a warning--

“If the stairs keep moving,” says one of the boys near Enjolras. “How are we supposed to learn our way?”

The Ravenclaw prefect stares back at him for a moment, before continuing like he hadn’t spoken. “Right,” he says. “This way, please!”

Enjolras looks over at the boy, and meets his eyes, smiling. “Enjolras,” he says.

“Feuilly,” says the boy. “I saw you sitting with the Hufflepuffs.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes. “I met them on the train,” he says, falling into step with Feuilly on the stairs. They seems to be staying put, but he’s still on edge. Combeferre is a guiding presence at his side. “It’d be pointless to have to make _new_ new friends.”

Feuilly smiles back at him. “No, I get you,” he says. “Nice to meet you, Enjolras.”

“Combeferre,” says Combeferre again, holding out his own hand. It has the dual purpose of keeping Feuilly from falling when the stairs decide to shift slightly.

“Awesome,” says Feuilly. “Now if you don’t mind...”

He trails off, still grinning, and the three of them go quickly up the rest of the stairs onto a safe, solid, not-likely-to-be-moving landing.

They’ve ended up at the tail end of the Ravenclaws, but Enjolras isn’t too concerned. He is, however, when they reach the entrance to the common room and find that their Prefects have sealed it with them all standing outside it.

“What are we doing?” he asks, somewhat pointlessly, when they reach the crowd.

“We’re supposed to answer the riddle,” says the girl from before, Musichetta.

“What is harder to see the more there is of it?” says the bronze knocker in front of her nose. It’s in the shape of an eagle, and its voice is just a touch amused.

“What?” says Enjolras, again.

“What is harder to see the more there is of it?” repeats the knocker.

“No, not you,” starts Enjolras, mind racing absently. “Darkness,” he says, finally. “But what if we got it wrong?”

“What makes you so certain you’ve gotten it right?” says Musichetta.

Enjolras stares back at her, and then the knocker. “Am I?” he says.

“Oh I like you,” says the knocker. “Your hair is lovely, dearie.”

The door swings open to reveal the Ravenclaw Prefects, looking somewhat surprised and the common room. Enjolras gives the arched windows, domed ceiling, and midnight blue carpet a brief once-over before turning back to Combeferre. “You have to agree it’s a bad system,” he says.

“You certainly had no problem with the question,” Combeferre replies, deadpan. “And I don’t think anyone else would have, either.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, and passes the white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw with comment.

“I’m just saying,” he says when they’ve reached the door to the dormitories. “What’s to say we’re all going to be treasuring our wit when we’re twelve. Or thirteen. Or even in a week?”

Combeferre follows him shaking his head. “What would you suggest?” he says.

“Something other than a hat,” says Enjolras, pulling the door closed behind him. “You have to admit that having a hat decide your fate is a little much.”

“Maybe,” concedes Combeferre, looking amused. “Are you going to be like this for the entire year?”

Enjolras blinks back him, eyelashes batting. “Why?” he says. “Does it bother you?”

“Oh no,” says Combeferre. “I just wanted to know what I got into when I let Bahorel drag me into your compartment.”

“Cosette’s compartment,” says Enjolras, on reflex.

“Cosette’s compartment.”

“I’m sorry,” says one of the other first years, setting up the bed next to Combeferre’s. “Did you say Cosette?”

“Yes,” says Enjolras, hesitantly.

“Cosette Fauchelevent?” says the student, sounding breathless. “Did you see her scar?”

Enjolras opens his mouth to snap back, but is halted by Combeferre’s hand on his back.

“Yes,” he says, to the point. “It’s not like she hides it.”

“Oh, I know, I--” says the student.

“It’s okay,” says Combeferre, not unkindly, but in a way that leaves no room for further debate.

The other boy finishes putting his trunk down at the base of his bed and disappears out of the room in a rush.

“Wow,” says Feuilly, coming into the room with Musichetta in tow. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“How did you even get in here?” says Enjolras, ignoring him, to Musichetta.

The girl raises both her hands and eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I’m relatively certain there are spells to prevent that--” begins Enjolras.

“Not for the girls,” says Combeferre. “Just the boys.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” says Enjolras, watching Musichetta settle onto his bed.

“Life isn’t fair,” she says, brightly, pulling out a deck of cards. “Now who here knows how to play exploding snap?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a Hogwarts AU. Updates on this will be crazy as I am a crazy and am doing all 7 years.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/).


	2. First Year: 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the time lapse…as I said, this is a really intense project and also I’m back at school! SHOUT OUT TO THE BEST ROOMMATES EVER YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. But seriously, I’m really enjoying this verse; fake schedules of hell aside. (I now have 3 years worth of fake schedules so…)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Betaed by Murf and Marta as always, all other mistakes are my own.

**First Year - 2**

\--

Classes don’t start till nine the next morning, so when Enjolras hears the sounds of his fellow housemates moving around the room, he simply rolls over with the intention of going back to sleep. He thinks he hears the sounds of Combeferre getting out of the bed next to his, but most of that is lost in the beautiful, and lovely lure of sleep; he takes a deep breath, lets it out, and burrows further into the covers.

He has absolutely no warning, therefore, before the door the dorm comes shattering open and none other than Marius Pontmercy (Enjolras remembers the last name pointedly from the sorting the other night) is saying, “I really don’t think we should be here--”

“Live a little, Pontmercy,” interjects Courfeyrac. He’s whispering, at least, but seeing as he’s currently inside Enjolras’ dormitory being loud and dramatic at an ungodly hour, it’s sort of a moot point.

“No, but, did you hear the knocker? It sounded really disapproving,” continues Marius. He’s whispering as well, but in a way that suggests he actually cares. Enjolras really should make a point of getting to know Marius better in the coming years, as he is obviously a far better choice friend than Courfeyrac.

“It’s a knocker,” says Courfeyrac, not at all fazed. “It therefore cannot sound disapproving, Marius. Honestly.”

Enjolras finds himself very vindictively wishing that Courfeyrac would trip over the trunk at the foot of his bed.

“No, but,” says Marius, and then there’s a terrible thudding noise.

Enjolras considers rolling over if only to thank the heavens, since it sounds very much like his wishes have come true and Courfeyrac has indeed tripped over the trunk at the foot of his bed.

To be safe, he says, “Did you just trip over the trunk at the foot of my bed?”

There is a short pause. “It lives,” says Combeferre, finally. “Yay.”

And then Courfeyrac starts cursing.

Enjolras thinks that it’s actually impressive how many swears the other boy manages to get into the span of thirty seconds. But then he sighs, and starts mourning for the loss of his sleep.

When Courfeyrac finishes, Enjolras has rolled over onto his back and is staring up hanging blue curtains of his bed counting backwards from ten very slowly. When the room goes quiet, he pauses, lets out a deep breath, and closes his eyes.

“Thank you for that, Courfeyrac,” says Combeferre, dryly, into the silence. “I’m sure if anyone in our dorm was still sleeping, they are now awake.”

“I’m not,” Enjolras points out, not opening his eyes. “I’m dreaming. Go away.”

The curtains come open with a great whoosh and suddenly there is sunlight everywhere.

“Rise and shine, Enjolras!” crows Courfeyrac, the bastard. “It’s breakfast time!”

Enjolras rolls over in vain, chasing sleep even though he can feel Courfeyrac’s hands on his shoulders dragging him free of the covers.

“I will kill you,” he tells him, not opening his eyes, even as he lets himself be dragged closer and closer to the edge of the bed. “If I open my eyes and you are not gone in the next three seconds I will kill you.”

“But you’ll open your eyes?” says Courfeyrac, sounding far too innocent for this early in the morning. “Because you really should open your eyes and come eat breakfast with us.”

Enjolras sighs, opens his eyes, and glares up at Courfeyrac. “Happy?” he says.

“Not quite,” says Courfeyrac, and rolls Enjolras out of the bed.

“I’m going to kill you,” Enjolras repeats, from where’s he’s now sprawled star-fished on the dormitory floor. “I’m--I don’t even need my wand--I’ll just strangle you, slowly, with my bare hands--”

“I’d start running, Courfeyrac,” interjects Combeferre, and Enjolras stops.

“Hang on,” he says. “Who let him in here, anyway?”

Combeferre smirks. “Oops?” he says.

And so the second time Enjolras passes through the doors into the great hall, it’s half dressed and chasing the two of them with murder in his eyes.

Grantaire, seated at one of the near empty tables with Cosette, looks up and smiles. “Apollo,” he says. “How very kind of you to join us.” He lets his eyes flick up and down Enjolras’ very bare, very suddenly flushing chest. “Though I do think clothes are probably necessary.”

“Shut up,” says Enjolras, through his teeth. He’s aware that he’s not at all dressed for public, but by the time he’d managed to shove his feet into trousers and grabbed his wand Courfeyrac and Combeferre had been down the stairs and nearly out of the Common Room, Marius fluttering in their wake. “Don’t say anything.”

Grantaire raises both of his hands, but he’s grinning even as he does so.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac have settled onto the bench next to Cosette and are doing a wonderful job at pretending that none of this is their fault. Marius looks a little be confused, but when Cosette hauls him down into the seat next to her he visibly brightens.

“I hate all of you,” says Enjolras, angrily, shifting somewhat uncomfortable on the soles of his bare feet. “I hope you all die alone.”

“Now, now,” says Feuilly, brightly, from over Enjolras’ shoulder. He appears carrying Enjolras’ robes, as well as a pair of shoes and socks. “Is that any way to treat your rescuer?”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but takes the clothes anyway. “Not you,” he says, shrugging into the dress shirt and pulling the robes over it. “You’re exempt.”

“Exempt,” repeats Grantaire. “I should know you’d be one for big words early in the morning.”

Enjolras doesn’t look up from where he’s tying his tie. “Thanks for reminding me,” he says. “It really is rather early in the morning, isn’t it, Courfeyrac?

He gives up on the tie, sighing, and Grantaire swivels around to shake his head at him, before tugging him forward by the material and setting it right. “You’re ridiculous,” says Grantaire, and sticks out his tongue when Enjolras swats at him halfheartedly.

Courfeyrac has gone quiet, and when Enjolras looks up at him, he swallows and starts shoveling food onto Enjolras’ plate. “Look at all of this food, Enjolras,” he says. “Don’t you think you should be thanking me for waking you in time to eat all of this food?”

Enjolras has to admit the food looks as lovely as it did last night. “I was planning on eating breakfast,” he starts to protest, settling into the seat next to him to start on his shoes and socks. “I was going to have to come down to get my schedule, anyway.”

Combeferre hands him the piece of parchment wordlessly, and Enjolras scans it over. Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and History of Magic. He yawns, still not quite awake, and sighs.

“Not with us, though,” Courfeyrac is saying, still caught up on the ‘eating breakfast’ part of the conversation. “Don’t pretend you weren’t going to snag a muffin with five minutes to spare.”

Enjolras glares at him, but spears some egg with his fork and puts it in his mouth. So what if he had been. The muffins in questions are certainly big enough to be breakfast, and it’s not like Enjolras needs a full stomach for Transfiguration.

“What classes have you got, anyway,” interjects Feuilly, settling next to Enjolras. “Not you,” he adds, when Enjolras raises an eyebrow at him.

“This is Feuilly,” says Enjolras, addressing the rest of the table. “And he can stay.”

There’s a pause.

“I’m not allowed to stay?” says Grantaire finally. “I helped you with your tie.”

Enjolras puts another bite of egg into his mouth. “True,” he says. “You can stay too.”

“Yay,” says Grantaire. “Because I’m pretty sure we have Transfiguration together.”

And then he actually winks at Enjolras, who is suddenly very focused on the food in front of him, as opposed to the way the light from the great hall is reflecting off the lines of scar tissue on his neck, just visible under his half-assed Gryffindor-red-and-gold tie; which, now that Enjolras thinks about it, is pretty indicative of where they’re sitting. “Any reason we’re with the Gryffindors today?” he says, around another mouthful of egg. It’s surprisingly good, and despite the amount of food at the feast last night, his stomach growls loudly.

“Too lazy to start something so early in the morning,” says Grantaire, and Cosette punches him in the shoulder.

“We were waiting for you,” she says, simply.

Something warm and tingly settles into the pit of Enjolras’ stomach. “Oh,” he says. He wonders if this is what it feels like to have friends, and then feels a little stupid for thinking it. But then, Grantaire nearly chokes on his own food, and he finds himself rolling his eyes along with Cosette while Combeferre pounds him on the back.

\--

Enjolras thinks he could like Transfiguration for the first day. He does have it with the Gryffindors, so Cosette gets to school him on proper wand technique while Bahorel and Feuilly become fast friends after nearly taking each other’s eyes out with their wands.

Defense Against the Dark Arts is a slightly more awkward affair, because it’s with the Slytherins, and Professor Chenildieu is startlingly perceptive. He’s a wiry sort of man, shorter than Enjolras had expected, and entirely unamused with the lot of them. He also doesn’t seem to stop moving.

“That was pretty horrible,” says Eponine, when she and Enjolras file out of the classroom. They’d left Jehan back with Montparnasse, and Combeferre had begged off to ask Professor Chenildieu a question. Their classroom isn’t that far from the Great Hall and therefore they’re in no rush to get to lunch, so it’s safe to say that they’re loitering in the hall waiting for him.

Eponine shoots him a somewhat expectant look. She’s quite different than what Enjolras had assumed when he met her on the train, but he finds that he likes her. And certainly it doesn’t help that her immediate response to his morning Courfeyrac problem was to vow to help him sneak into the Hufflepuff common room.

(“I’m a Slytherin,” she’d said. “It’d be ridiculous if I _didn’t_ spend my first few weeks terrifying Hufflepuffs.” Enjolras had been less than impressed by that, but she’d been quick to add, “I’m kidding--I’m only going to terrify Courfeyrac. And that’s because he’s an idiot who pushed you out of bed. He could be a Slytherin for all I care; I’d still punish him. Though if he was a Slytherin that would be easier since we live together.”)

The look on her face when Enjorlas realizes he’s left her hanging, is an odd cross of amusement and annoyance.

“Sorry,” he says. “And, um, it probably could have been worse.” They reach the end of the corridor and stop. “And this is Professor Chenildieu’s second year teaching, yeah?”

Eponine nods.

“That has to count for something.”

“What?” Combeferre appears at Enjolras’ left shoulder, looking a little ruffled and out of breath. “That he’s actually skilled enough to break the stupid curse?”

Enjolras frowns. “I don’t think you can call it stupid,” he says, slowly. “It lasted for a while.”

They start off down the corridor, hurrying down a few flights of stairs till they reach the Ground Floor, where they stop briefly to catch their breath.

“It was done as a joke, though,” Eponine is saying. “I mean, everyone knew that Louis Philippe wasn’t actually interested in the position--he just wanted to piss Valjean off.”

Enjolras shrugs. “I’m just saying,” he says. “Professor Chenildieu knows what he’s talking about.”

“Chenildieu?”

The three of them turn their heads to find Grantaire and Cosette, catching a ride on a moving staircase. They’re accompanied by Courfeyrac and Marius, the former looking smug, and the latter a bit singed. Behind them in another boy, wearing some sort of odd beak-mask type thing, and looking a little nervous.

“I take it you had Potions, then,” Eponine says, dryly, nodding her head at Marius.

“Ah, come off Marius.” Grantaire drapes an arm around the other boy, and Enjolras notices that his robes look singed as well. “A valiant effort was made.”

Cosette and Courfeyrac roll their eyes. “Right,” says Courfeyrac. “Be glad you’ve got ‘Ponine to help you, Enjolras. R is useless.”

Grantaire fakes offense at that. “I was plenty useful,” he says.

“You nearly blew up the building,” says Courfeyrac.

“I don’t think you _can_ blow up Hogwarts,” says the boy with the beak, voice muffled.

“Not important.” Courfeyrac waves a hand. “I feared for my safety.” He ends up nearly toppling off the stair he’s standing on, and only the boy with the beak saves him.

“Yeah,” says Eponine. “Because you’re plenty safe on your own.”

“Shut up,” says Courfeyrac. “And thank you, Joly. Everyone.” He turns to address the group. “This is Joly. Joly, this is everyone.”

Combeferre manages a smile. “Nice to meet you,” he says politely. “I’m Combeferre.

“Eponine,” says Eponine, before stepping around Enjolras to shove at Grantaire until he lets go of poor Marius.

“Enjolras,” Enjolras manages. “Why are you wearing a beak?”

There’s a short pause.

“Um,” says Grantaire.

“Well,” says Courfeyrac.

“I like you,” says Eponine. She narrows her eyes at Courfeyrac. “Is the Hufflepuff common room in the dungeon too?”

Courfeyrac is quiet. “Yes?” he says finally.

Eponine looks gleeful. “Brilliant,” she says. Turning to Enjolras, she gives him a thumbs up.

“It’s a muggle contraption,” says Joly, voice still muffled. “It protects against disease.”

Enjolras manages a nod. “Right,” he says. “Okay.”

“I started wearing it after the first few cases,” Joly continues. “Because I had friends who were affected, and then when people started dying, I, um--” He stops, suddenly hyper aware of where Cosette is several inches away studiously studying her nails. “It never hurts to be safe,” Joly finishes, awkwardly.

No one appears to be willing to address the elephant in the room for a while, and Enjolras has just opened his mouth to do so, when the elephant in question sighs.

She walks over to Joly, and very gently pulls the beak away from his face. “Your face is flushed,” she tells him. “And there hasn’t been a case in years.”

 _Since I survived and Louis Philippe went underground,_ goes unsaid; everyone hears it regardless.

“Um,” Joly says again.

“Let’s get lunch,” Courfeyrac says quickly. “I’m starving.”

They all seem to come to an agreement and start to move off, but Enjolras finds that he and Grantaire both move to bracket Cosette on both sides.

She looks a little bit startled, but pleasantly so.

“You okay?” says Grantaire.

Enjolras nods.

“Oh.” Cosette smiles at them, brilliantly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Grantaire looks over at Enjolras and raises his eyebrows until he smiles back. He can’t see much of him without having to lean around Cosette, though.

“Unfair,” Grantaire says, pointing at her, and then at Eponine ahead of them. “You too, ‘Ponine. I can’t wait for Third year when Apollo and I finally have a shot at actually being taller than a girl.”

Eponine looks back at the three of them with a raised eyebrow. “Oh really,” she says. “You planning on being taller than me, R?”

Grantaire stares her down. “So I’m R, now?” he says.

“So I’m ‘Ponine, now?” Eponine retorts.

There’s a moment of silence.

“I think you’ll be taller than him, Eponine,” says Courfeyrac. He puts an arm around Joly, who’s still clutching his beak like he can’t figure out if he wants to put it back on. “Right, Joly?”

Joly looks back at her. “I don’t know,” he says. “Grantaire looks like he might be a grower.”

The ensuing silence is the type of silence that Enjolras is pretty sure they’re going to be laughing about for the next seven years; the flush on Joly’s cheeks as well.

“I like you,” Grantaire finally says. “To borrow a phrase from Enjolras, here: He can stay.”

\--

The universal agreement is that until flying lessons start up, Courfeyrac is to be quiet and let Combeferre and Enjolras do homework in the library. Courfeyrac obviously disagrees, and spends the entire free-period making increasingly small animals out of paper and charming them to life. Badly. Charming them badly to life--so badly, that when Grantaire and Cosette happen upon them fresh out of Charms, all of the paper animals are making a nest out of Enjolras’ hair.

“Do not say anything,” he tells them. “I am not above using this.” He brandishes his wand a few times for good measure.

Eponine just walks around Cosette and rolls her eyes. “You’re absolutely terrifying,” she says. “But also, you’ll be late for...”

“History of Magic,” says Courfeyrac. “I’m just happy we don’t have it with Professor Javert.”

“I don’t think he teaches first years,” Marius says, quietly, not looking up from where he’s been diligently doing work at the table. Enjolras really, really, likes him.

There’s a short pause.

“Anyway,” Courfeyrac says, clearing his throat, and shoving the awkwardness away with his schoolbooks into the bag sitting next to him. “God, I’m tired.” He stretches, yawning, and his back makes a series of cracking noises. Everyone stares at him, but he looks unfazed when he notices. “What?”

“You spent the entire free period making these,” Enjolras tells him, not bothering to do more than gesture at the paper animals still playing house in his hair. “And yet you’re tired.”

“I had to get up early,” Courfeyrac replies, seriously. “Didn’t want to miss my window of opportunity for waking you.”

Enjolras narrows his eyes. “For dumping me out of bed, more like,” he says.

Courfeyrac waves a hand. “Semantics,” he says. “Either way, I had to be up early enough so that Combeferre, here--” He puts an arm around the boy in question, who doesn’t look up from the book he’s been reading the entire conversation. “--because he refused to tell me when he was waking up.”

Enjolras blinks. “Wait, when was this?”

“At the Feast.” Combeferre snaps his book shut and starts getting to his feet. “Come one, we’re going to be late.”

He seems entirely unconcerned by the turn of the discussion; Enjolras isn’t. “You decided you were going to wake me up at an ungodly hour at the Feast?” he manages.

Courfeyrac rolls his eyes. “You had a look to you,” he says. “A look that says ‘I’m going to skip breakfast with my newfound friends and also I simply roll out of bed with this hair.’”

Enjolras scoffs; Courfeyrac keeps rolling his eyes.

“And, to be fair, I did not know that you would befriend lovely people who would keep you up all night playing explosive card games.” He steps around Cosette and Grantaire, who head for their vacated seats without a backwards glance, and mock stares down Eponine, who just rolls her eyes.

Enjolras shrugs. Courfeyrac had taken to Feuilly and Musichetta within the first few moments of meeting them, even if he liked Musichetta a tad more. (And that probably had more to do with the fact that Feuilly had given Enjolras clothes, and Musichetta had laughed herself silly.)

“And breakfast is the best meal of the day, anyway,” Courfeyrac finishes. “Right, Combeferre?”

Combeferre snorts. “I’m not getting in the middle of this,” he says.

“You already got in the middle of it,” points out Marius, before Enjolras can interject. “You let us into the dorm.”

Enjolras closes his mouth, smug for only two seconds, before he’s stopping in his tracks and narrowing his eyes at Marius. “Hang on,” he says. “You were involved too.”

Marius blinks. “Oh,” he says. “Right, yes, well.” He looks sheepish. “I’m sorry?”

Enjolras continues to stare at him, until the other boy looks more than a little ruffled and splotchy red all over, before nodding. “Okay,” he says, and starts walking again.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre hadn’t stopped for the two of them, so he catch up with them, and only has to wait a moment for Marius to come stumbling after them.

Joly meets them on their way up to the third floor, looking out of breath and slightly distracted. He can’t seem to stop sputtering out apologies and explanations and Enjolras worries for a moment that the other boy actually spent the entire free period lost in the castle, but Courfeyrac simply drapes an arm around him and drags him in close.

“Stop worrying, Joly,” he says. “And start preparing yourself for probably the most mind numbingly boring lecture ever.”

For a moment, Joly seems like he’s going to keep muttering to himself, but he sighs and manages a smile. Enjolras smiles back, at a bit of a loss.

Marius has no such problems. “Why do you think it’ll be boring?” he says, as they round a corner and file into the classroom.

Courfeyrac goes to open his mouth, but stops, when he sees Professor Myriel’s smile. Enjolras has to admit it’s a pretty blinding smile. Professor Myriel looks like he’s absolutely thrilled to be teaching them, and goes on to say as much, to Courfeyrac, and everyone else as they file in after them.

“What are you talking about, Marius,” Courfeyrac says, through his own brilliant smile. “This is going to be my favorite class ever.” He settles into a chair, still smiling, and starts tugging on Combeferre’s robes instantly.

“I regret meeting you,” says Combeferre, but he sits down dutifully next to him.

“Shh,” says Courfeyrac, still smiling. “You’re ruining the best class ever.”

Combeferre rolls his eyes. “I thought you said it was your favorite class ever?”

Courfeyrac turns to look at him with the smile still on his face, but it looks more like a grimace. Enjolras very helpfully settles down into the seat in front of him so that Professor Myriel doesn’t have to stare at it for the entire period.

“Right,” Courfeyrac is saying. “My bestest favoritest class everest.”

There’s a short pause, until Marius says, quietly, “isn’t that a mountain?” and Courfeyrac makes a pained noise and doesn’t smack him; it looks like he’s fighting a losing battle, so Enjolras leans back in his seat to whisper to Combeferre.

“Five sickles he smacks him by the end of the class.”

Combeferre makes a show of mulling it over, as Marius actually turns sorrowful eyes on Courfeyrac and their friend bends over backwards to appease him. “You’re on,” he says.

\--

Enjolras tries to miss dinner, because he’s that exhausted.  He spends History of Magic fighting to keep his eyes open, suddenly exhausted in lieu of more knowledge than he’s used to and one of the longest days he’s had in a while. He tries to bow out of dinner and head back to the common room as soon as Professor Myriel finishes droning on about the history of magic, but Courfeyrac grabs him by the arm before he can.

“Nope,” says Courfeyrac. “Absolutely not.” He links his arm with Enjolras’ and begins frog-marching them down the corridor. Combeferre falls into step with them, Marius, Joly, Feuilly, and Musichetta trailing behind somewhat awkwardly.

“Is this really necessary?” Enjolras tries to ask.

Courfeyrac keeps marching. “You’re the one who tried to skip out on breakfast,” he says. “I am taking precautions.”

“Necessary precautions,” adds Combeferre, from his other side, hiding a grin with wit. “You’re practically skin and bone, anyway.”

“Who’s practically skin and bone?” says Joly, sounding concerned. The boy has a very real fear of most things viral; on the extreme level, the disease that killed Cosette’s parents; on the less extreme level, Courfeyrac’s apparent fixation on Enjolras’ eating schedules.

“I am not skin and bone,” he says, grumbling. “And I’m tired.”

“You can sleep later,” says Courfeyrac. “Now it’s time for dinner.”

“Dinner,” agrees Combeferre. He takes hold of Enjolras’ other arm, and with a sideways wink, flicks his wand once until their marching is accompanied with a drum beat. Enjolras isn’t sure, but he thinks it’s Wagner.

Eponine and Grantaire have emerged from the Charms classroom fighting back tears to join them. Bahorel and Cosette are lagging a bit behind them, but perk up when they hear the music.

“Is that _Flight of the Valkyries_?” says Cosette.

Combeferre just grins and keeps walking.

“I don’t think that’s what we’re supposed to be using magic for,” Enjolras points out, but he’s grinning as well.

\--

The next morning dawns early and entirely too cheerfully, and Enjolras really does need to make it a rule that Courfeyrac is not allowed into the dorm before breakfast.

“I would have gotten up if you’d asked me,” he tells the floor, mournfully. “You didn’t have to knock me out of bed.” He sighs. “Again.”

“I wanted to see him in action,” says a voice that is very pointed not Courfeyrac. “You cannot blame me.”

Enjolras glares up at Cosette, who simply raises an eyebrow.

“What?” she says. “I was curious.”

“Right.” Enjolras heaves out a long sigh, and starts to get to his feet. “And everyone else is here because?”

“What she said,” says Joly, quickly. He looks the most nervous to be in the Ravenclaw dorm this early in the morning.

“Jehan made me,” says Eponine, but she looks amused. “I’m surprised you had the gall to sleep practically naked again, though.”

Enjolras doesn’t look up from where he’s been slowly buttoning his shirt. “Shut up.”

Someone makes an amused noise, and he shoots a look up at them. Combeferre stares back, unfazed.

“I take it you let them in?” he says.

“Actually, Grantaire did that--” Marius tries to explain, but the boy in question doesn’t let him.

“Not important,” he says, loudly. “You should get dressed so we can go eat breakfast.”

Enjolras stares back at him, very pointedly not amused, and purposefully slows the buttoning of his shirt.

The others watch him for a moment, before Courfeyrac sighs.

“Now, see,” he says, “you’re just being rude, now.”

“Rude,” repeats Enjolras.

“Rude,” says Courfeyrac. And then, with a grin, “Think of this as a bonding exercise.”

Enjolras has only a second to mumble out, “a what?” before Courfeyrac is tackling him, pressing him down on the floor and shouting for Combeferre to grab his textbooks and Feuilly his robes.

And so the _third_ time Enjolras passes through the doors into the great hall, it’s both half dressed and being carried by all of his friends.

Which, while embarrassing, isn’t the worst thing to have happen.

Case in point: one week into the semester, Courfeyrac’s mother sends him a positive howler.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Plot Summary for Years 1 and 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is discontinued. I'm so, so, so, sorry. This is how it would have ended.

**1.3**

  * **TIME SKIP: 2 weeks**
  * courfeyrac’s howler (his mom isn't a witch, so she just assumes all letters speak and keep sending him howlers that go 'hi you're lovely'



The entire Great Hall is silent. Enjolras can’t really blame them; even Combeferre, seated closest to the now prostate Courfeyrac, doesn’t look like he knows what to do or say.

“Um,” manages Cosette, finally. “Was that--was that a howler?”

At her side, Grantaire seems to shake. “I--I think so?”

“Can howlers even _be_ positive?” says Marius, and Éponine hits him.

Courfeyrac makes a broken sounding noise and turns his head so that it’s no longer squashed into the table. “My mother isn’t a witch,” he says, sounding pained.

The all pause to let that sink in, before Éponine leans around Combeferre to pat Courfeyrac awkwardly on the back.

  * r into the ravenclaw common room
  * transfiguration



It very quickly becomes clear that Enjolras’ least favorite class is going to be Transfiguration, and he’s not entirely sure why. Well, that’s a lie; he knows the reason, and that the reason is currently seated two seats in front of him and drawing surprisingly accurate caricatures of the rest of their class. Enjolras thinks he should probably be more bothered by how very obviously Grantaire is not paying attention, but be it that Professor Fauchelevent is the head of the boy’s class, he figures it’s not going unnoticed. Also, Grantaire is good--both at Transfiguration and at drawing. Which is beside the point, actually, but it turns out it’s rather hard to do much of anything when every few moments Grantaire stops, looks over his shoulder a bit, and _grins_ at him.

It’s--the grin is entirely too presumptuous and there is no reason for it to make Enjolras’ stomach swoop in uncomfortable circles. But it does, is the thing, and really Enjolras can’t be held accountable for how hard it is to concentrate on the lessons when Grantaire keeps doing it.

Really.

In fact, the next time Professor Fauchelevent goes to call on him, Enjolras is going to say just that.

“Enjolras?” says Professor Fauchelevent,

Transfiguration is Enjolras’ least favorite class. Full stop.

“Enjolras?” repeats Professor Fauchelevent, and Enjolras is seriously considering breaking and letting his head thump down on the desk in front of him.

From the slightly shaking look to Grantaire’s shoulders, Enjolras thinks he’s laughing at him--which should piss him off and not leave him fighting a grin.

“Could you repeat the question?” he says, finally      

He supposes he’s lucky, since Professor Fauchelevent simply sighs, repeats the question, awards Enjolras five points for knowing the answer, and moves on; last time he’d spaced out during class (Double Potions with Slytherin) Professor Bamatabois had given him a look that Enjolras was still seeing in his nightmares.

Of course, the last time he’d spaced out during class it had been with Éponine, who tended to laugh at him, as opposed to smile at him, like Grantaire is doing now.

“What’s wrong with you?” hisses Combeferre, from his right, before Enjolras can smile back.

“What do you mean?” Enjolras replies, under his breath and not looking away from the board.

“You seem somewhat distracted,” says Combeferre.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” says Enjolras, copying down what Professor Fauchelevent is writing on the board and ignoring the way Cosette is leaning in close to mutter in Grantaire’s ear.

“Uh huh,” says Combeferre. “You misspelled wand.”

Enjolras blinks. “I did not,” he starts to hiss, before looking down to see that he has, in fact, somehow managed to misspell a four letter word.

In front of him, Grantaire laughs at something Cosette says, and Enjolras feels the hint of a smile flutter along the corners of his mouth. “We are never to speak of this again,” he tells Combeferre, out of the side of his mouth, and ignores the knowing look his friend throws him.

“Right,” says Combeferre, and then smiles brightly back at Professor Fauchelevent.

The man sighs, deeply put upon, and Enjolras remembers that he is in fact the head of Gryffindor.

Grantaire himself has given up on drawing and is instead charming the doodles alive, which should not be nearly as amusing as it is.

  * flying lesson number 1
  * courfeyrac’s many more howlers
  * COSETTE’S DECLARATION OF WAR



**1.4**

  * **TIME SKIP: 1 month**
  * Cosette and Enjolras bond



The next few months pass uneventfully, or as uneventfully as they can when you’ve inadvertently started some sort of prank war. Or, Prank War, apparently, if the way Cosette’s taken to dragging Bahorel and Grantaire away from the rest of them says anything about the gravity of the situation. Ever since that first morning, with Marius turning pink as you like and the entire Great Hall in shocked hysterics, they’ve been sitting by house. Which would bother him, if it wasn’t for the fact that as soon as that little show is over, Cosette is back to breaking into the Ravenclaw Common room with surprising ease.

“Okay,” Enjolras says, finally, after three days of her following him back from lunch early and settling onto his bed. “How are you doing that?”

Cosette just blinks at him over the bagel she’s stolen from the Great Hall. “What do you mean?”

Enjolras sighs. “Are you secretly a Ravenclaw?” he says. “Because you’re not supposed to be able to guess the password if you’re not--”

“I’m not guessing the password,” says Cosette. “It’s not my fault everyone in your house is a pushover.”

Enjolras narrows his eyes. “Right,” he says.

“Anyway, I can’t wait for this stupid Prank War to be over, can you?”

Enjolras shrugs and goes back to gathering his Herbology textbooks. “I suppose.”

“It’s somewhat childish, don’t you think?” Cosette continues. “I mean, I only sent Marius that Howler because Courfeyrac was starting to look a little stir crazy.”

Enjolras waits a beat. “What?”

  * halloween
  * cosette is like: costumes
  * courfeyrac is like: costumes
  * enjolras is like: wtf costumes
  * Halloween feast (r is missing)
  * Enjolras and Courfeyrac and Combeferre bond
  * the great prank war ends with a truce



**1.5**

  * The first quidditch match: Gryffindor vs Slytherin
  * NAME DROPPING LIKE A BOSS
  * Louis Philippe in France, maybe some sort of whispers about him showing up at Hogwarts, increased security? maybe cosette goes to talk to valjean and is in a mood
  * obligatory cheering up of cosette
  * holiday discussions
  * that awkward moment where grantaire is like i’m not going home
  * and cosette and eponine decide to stay with him (some eponine hinting about parents, and enjolras going: wait, you’re parents are the Thernardiers? and everyone glaring
  * Courfeyrac is a christmas miracle



**1.6**

  * courfeyrac’s obligatory you’re twelve years old howler arrives late
  * the love poem howler thing. THE PRANK WAR IS NOT OVER APPARENTLY
  * Valentines Day.
  * Hilarity ensues with the upper classmen
  * quiditch again: Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff (references to Hufflepuff beating Ravenclaw (Courf is smug) and Ravenclaw beating Slytherin))
  * Cosette is super competitive
  * Grantaire is amused



**1.7**

  * end of year antics: gryffindor vs ravenclaw
  * it’s pretty great
  * Gryffindor wins
  * party
  * Louis Philippe kills a dude
  * puts a bit of a damper on things
  * Cosette is steadfastly ignoring the whispers
  * quidtich:
  * And the year ends with everyone passing their exams



**\--**

**Year 2**

**2.1**

  * **interlude: letters from les amis**
  * The hogwarts express
  * some stuff about louis philippe (can be in letters too)
  * Grantaire has a new scar
  * and is tired
  * and sleeps a lot
  * Courfeyrac meanwhile is taking great pleasure at Jehan and Marius not being 12 yet



**2.2**

  * Class exposition
  * Defense Against the Dark Arts with JAVERT
  * which you know
  * is probably a good 2k right there
  * Javert is
  * Javert
  * Grantaire is sort of tetchy



**2.3**

  * Louis Philippe is at Durmstrang this year
  * b/c he’s a bit of a failure on the intel front
  * probably there’s some quidditch
  * TRYOUTS
  * BASTIEN
  * ENJOLRAS DRAGGED TO TRYOUTS
  * GRANTAIRE IS FABULOUS
  * AS PER USUAL
  * A mention of Halloween probably



**2.4**

  * it’s gryffindor vs slythering again (November)
  * grantaire is less than enthused
  * but he’s on the team this year
  * so he has to be somewhat competitive about it
  * maybe he and ep don’t speak except for like owls and shit
  * only you know
  * they can’t have owls following them about the castle
  * probably marius is their runner
  * cosette is not impressed
  * cosette and eponine are also not talking though b/c COMPETITION
  * I think Gryffindor has to win
  * mostly b/c enjorlas shows up spontaneously in gryffindor gold and red
  * b/c like
  * he makes an offhand comment about not caring or something
  * and grantaire pretends not to care but he really does in fact care



**2.5**

  * Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw (i.e: Enjolras is a failure at quidditch the montage) (end of November)
  * Charms class, Arresto Momentum
  * discussion of Grantaire in the weeks before
  * Courfeyrac being all blase
  * Courfeyrac stumbling upon the scar issue
  * Enjolras being like it’s really none of our business
  * but staring at the scars all at dinner
  * like an idiot
  * Grantaire just taking it



**2.6**

  * December 17th--the moon
  * Grantaire opts not to go home, again.
  * Enjolras is like okay
  * Courfeyrac is meanwhile like THE MOON
  * b/c you know when he was joking he was totally not really joking
  * also I bet courfeyrac has a graphing calculator
  * in fact
  * there must be a graphing calculator astronomy homework scene
  * Christmas stuff
  * And werewolf stuff



**2.7**

  * GRANTAIRE AVOIDS THEM ALL
  * UNTIL THE END OF SCHOOL
  * Hufflepuff vs Slytherin (May)  --mention that gryffindor beat hufflepuff back during valentines day
  * GRANTAIRE IS STILL AVOIDING THEM
  * TILL THE EXAMS
  * and enjolras isn’t bothered b/c he’s doing his own exams
  * but as soon as he’s done
  * he turns to cosette and is like ‘are you done with exams?’
  * and cosette is like uh, yeah?
  * and they grab grantaire and sit him down and they have a talk and there might be some tears but all is well



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post with more information located [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/71340167638/the-end-of-the-era-my-les-mis-fic).
> 
> I want to reiterate a huge thank you to everyone who took the time to read and comment and leave a kudos on this story. You are all amazing people and I cannot tell you how much it has meant to me. Thank you.
> 
> All my love,  
> Nat.


End file.
